Sounds of Faces - Risk of Death Among Ghosts

Lost in the color of cold
The day I went walking from my home
The shape of what could be
The risk of death among ghosts
Where do we go after the crescendo
Sense of freedom you have when you're alone
Riding the highs
Counting the pines
To the lows
It's not even
It's not even
It's not even
Casting eyes and lines
Trapped alone in my room
Turning it inside out
Out of patience
Out of time
In this moment
It's not even
It's not even
It's not even
I want to be who I want to be who I want to be who I want to be I want to be who I want to be who I want to be who I want to be

Written by:
Connor Peavey, Mike Homnick, Reilly Peavey

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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